Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

Thursday, 16 January 2014

Stuff I figured out early.

Some things I figured out late in life. Prime among these is the need to SHUT UP more often. Not everyone wants their life to be an open book. I embarrassed some people before I learned more discretion, for which I am truly sorry. Before we go any further: work was different and the healing room has always been Vegas. What happens there stays there.

Some things I got right in mid life. I shall remain silent about them, because see above.

And some things I figured out by the time I was 20. I feel somewhat smug about being an early adopter of some values that are now becoming fashionable. Or have recently been. Those things come and go, like feminism and back to the land movements. 

Long before Betty Friedan wrote The Feminine Mystique Simone de Beauvoir had published "The second sex". I read it as well as her The Mandarins during my first year away from home at 18. It made a deep impression.

I wasn't sure what I wanted to do in life, but I was determined to avoid the fate of my mother, who was not happy as a fifties style housewife. She blossomed later but that is another story. 
I knew that whatever life brought, I needed some work of my own, some way to give meaning to life that was not dependent on a love relationship.
As soon as I became responsible for my own upkeep I also realized that I valued time over money, life over stuff.
Time and money are interchangeable to some degree, as many people are figuring out again. Returning productivity to the household has become a movement. I find myself torn between cheering it on, and being amused because they make such a fuss over it.

My ideal has always been a productive household combined with part time work. Some people may be driven self starters, I need that kick in the behind of an outside commitment to get going. I bet I am not the only mere sloppy mortal who gets more done with some scheduling and social stimulation.

Keeping up with the Jones has never been high on my list of priorities. After suffering as a socially awkward child I joyfully let go of any efforts to be normal once I left home. I owe a karmic debt to Yoka Barends, sister of Dutch actor Edda Barends, who befriended me in that first year and made me feel fine about not fitting in. Our friendship was a defining influence in my life.

The understanding that growth cannot go on forever on a finite planet seemed pretty obvious early on. A nature lover in an overpopulated country cannot pretend that the world is endless. When The Limits of Growth was published in the early seventies our reaction was: "They need studies for that? Isn't it obvious?"

The whole money thing. 
I grew up with stories of the winter of famine, 1944/45. The moral was that the people who fared well were those who could grow food. People from the cities would set out into the countryside on bicycles, often with wooden wheels, with any valuables they had in the hope of trading them for a sack of potatoes. Diamonds may be a girl's best friend but you can't eat them. For years I have professed more faith in the potato standard than in the gold standard. Imagine my pleasure when the great Terry Pratchett used exactly that comparison in "Making Money". 

I was part of a group that tried to set up a local barter bank in the early nineties. We just might try again one of these days. There is nothing as powerful as an idea whose time has come. The true weakness of the fractional reserve system is becoming more widely known. My favourite explainer is Canadian Nicole Foss. No conspiracy theories, no scary jumps from blaming bankers to ranting about Zionists, just down to earth facts. 
Find her here: http://theautomaticearth.com

And speaking of  food, we have done the fashionable eat local, eat with the seasons thing almost our entire life. I grew up that way and reverted to it once I started gardening.

As mentioned elsewhere, I have lived this rural life because I love it, not out of fear of immanent collapse. We are nowhere near as self sufficient as we could have been, but the simple life suits me. The rat race does not. The offspring is thriving in Metro Vancouver.

Pardon an old woman for congratulating herself a bit as she reads blogs by young wannabe homesteaders.









Wednesday, 14 December 2011

Honour these names


Know these names. Honour them.

Shiv Chopra.

Margaret Haydon.

Gerald Lambert.

They are the scientists who made sure our Canadian milk does not have Monsanto's bovine growth hormone in it. They got fired for their integrity.


"Veterinarians Shiv Chopra, Margaret Haydon and Gerald Lambert spent most of their lives at Health Canada. Their job was to evaluate the safety of drugs for animals intended for human consumption. They had long expressed reservations about certain antibiotics and growth hormones.
The researchers eventually revealed that they were being pressured by their bosses to approve these products. They disclosed this to members of two parliamentary committees and the media. In their testimony they explained that they had exposed this situation to protect public safety. In July 2004, all three were summarily dismissed. They appealed to the Public Service Labour Relations Board, claiming that their dismissal was unjustified."
Things have not gotten any better. 
More information here:  http://shivchopra.com





The word for waste was sin.


Waste of food seems to be the theme of the day. I railed on Facebook about an event in Nevada, where the Food Police forced the destruction of precious food that was supposed to feed 72 people.

I was literally stuttering and sputtering with indignation. You know the system is insane, but the reality surpasses one's wildest paranoid fantasies.

Then Melanie on Multiply had an item about frugality, that prompted a comment about the incredible waste of packed school lunches. The thought of all those apples in the garbage makes me REALLY MAD.

During my childhood the memory of the Winter of Famine, 44/45, was still quite alive in the collective mind. Food waste was totally not done. 

On the rare occasion that something did go to waste, my mother or grandmother would say: "Wat zonde".

Zonde, dear readers, is the word for SIN.

Only recently have I realized how profound that expression was.


Sunday, 11 December 2011

A thrifty kitchen blog



I am a fanatical lover of good home-made soup, based on old-fashioned bone broth. The broth is actually my favorite part of any chicken or turkey.The grocery store will occasionally have trays of turkey necks for sale, cheap. It turns out you can special order a big box of them, yeah! The boxes are popular with people who feed their dogs a BARF diet, raw foods only.
I used to cut the necks into chunks, a hard and disgusting job, and toss them raw into the stockpot. It did seem a waste to throw out the meat once the broth was done, but it had no flavor left at all.
We have now figured out how to make the most of the precious resource. Just in case someone can use it, here goes.Step 1:
Throw the necks, WHOLE, into a roasting pan and let them roast for a while on good high heat, 375 or 400.  No fussing, just dry roast them as they are. I have no exact time here, use your judgment. Smell is a pretty good indicator.
Step 2:
This is where your hands get all greasy. Once the necks cool enough to handle strip some of the delicious meat off the outside. You just want the part that comes off easily, so you don't end up with little bones. Once you have done that break the neck into chunks, so you get more minerals out of the bones. You can do it with your bare hands, it is much easier than cutting them raw.
Chop the stripped meat into small pieces. It freezes well if you add broth to cover. It is delicious in Chow Mein or Shepherds Pie. Yesterday I added mushrooms and a broth-based roux, and just served it like that over potatoes. Yum. 
Cover your chunks of bone with ample water, including the stuff that you get when you deglaze the roasting pan. That means scraping the tasty bits off with the help of hot water so you don't lose all that flavor. Add a generous helping of good salt, freshly ground pepper, a bay leaf or 2, a few cloves if you have them, and a good glug of vinegar. The vinegar helps to leach the minerals from the bones. Thank you, Adelle Davis! Any vinegary taste completely disappears during boiling.
Enjoy the wonderful smell while water and salt do their magic.
Few smells spell HOME like simmering broth. (I am such a Cancer)
The end result will add magic to any soup or sauce it is added to. Apart from the flavor, bone broth is excellent support for bones, and helps your body to utilize protein better as well. I had to buy some canned chicken broth for a friend the other day, and was appalled at the price: almost $2 for a mere 12 oz, and Earth knows what's in it! Pour the works through a colander after a few hours. I like to simmer mine for a long time, because we want as much mineral nutrition from those bones as we can get.

Above: a chilled chunk of broth to show the rich gelatin content.

Bon Appetit!

Friday, 28 January 2011

Ingredients for a great meal

Originally posted to Multiply January 17 2010

Collect the ingredients.

Pull from freezer: Vegetable stock made from peelings. Chicken stock made from the carcass of one of Linda's home-grown chickens. A baggie of frozen dill, bought from market buddy Colette last summer.

Get from pantry closet in the hallway: Organically grown onions, from the neighbors in Washington State. Home-grown potatoes and garlic. A can of B.C. wild pink salmon, a can of clams, origin dubious but we can't be perfect.

Get from fridge: Organically grown carrots from our heroic local farmer Janet Spicer. Celery from the supermarkt, "corporate organic."

From spice cabinet: A bay leaf. Whole mixed peppercorns, Caribbean seasalt. A few cloves.

Invoke the memory of Dot, my boss at the Frontier Drive-Inn in Grand Forks who taught me how to make Clam Chowder in 1972. I think of her every time I make it. I cannot remember Dot's last name, though the government of Canada could help out. She was one of my sponsors when we became Canadian citizens in 1975. I remember her tears when she found out our first-born had died a day after birth. It turned out she had lost her first baby too. When you break a leg suddenly the world is full of broken legs. So it was with dead new-borns and other failed first pregnancies. We digress.


Ingredients and memories collected, now for the most crucial part: turn on Sunday Morning radio.

I absolutely love CBC's Sunday Morning. It is a leisurely paced program presented by the donnish honey-voiced Michael Enwright. It has room for documentaries, a bit of music, unhurried interviews and thoughtful analysis of what's happening in the world. It lasts from 9-12, and is a perfect accompaniment to the making of soup.

I even saved the extra potato water for baking bread tomorrow. Sometimes I am so virtuous I can't stand myself.













Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Pears, Vicars and Feet

Originally posted to Multiply November 21 2009

A huge pail of pears came our way for free, looking ugly as sin but organically grown and quite delicious at the right ripeness. Pears don't keep. One day they are rock-hard, the next they start to rot from the inside. Being fanatical about not wasting food I set about preparing them for the dryer, a sticky and tedious chore.
A boring task can become a pleasant time when the work is accompanied by a good story. Enter the wonderful world of audio books, courtesy of the local library.

The pears got done while I listened to a rendition of "Barchester Towers" by Anthony Trollope, one of those leisurely nineteenth century novels that one normally doesn't have the patience for. Vicars feature prominently. It is actually quite funny in a genteel Victorian way. Sometimes it reminds me of Tom Wolfe. Both writers are great at sharply observing and describing human beings jockeying for position.

And where do the feet come in? Well, the dehydrator was broken. My handy neighbor fixed it in return for Reflexology. We both suffer from a lack of the coloured pieces of paper that are the agreed-upon means of exchange. I love money when I have it, but in its absence there are other ways of trading!